Who Am I Without You?

I often lay in bed at night unable to sleep. You see, instead of counting blessings, I count all the things God has taken away from me. I'm afraid to be too thankful for what I do have for fear He'll sense the value and repossess those things as well. I suppose the things that were taken weren't really mine anyway. They were His. "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away." But there's so much security and ease in the things we have and cherish. We become so accustomed to those things in our lives that, to lose something, throws the entire balance of the familiar off.

I tried explaining it tonight to Jeff and I put it like this - I once had everything I held dear in a little box. My 'things' were secure and safe. I always knew where they were and I could visit them anytime I wanted. Then the box was spilled, and everything was either lost or shattered to bits. Some pieces would never be found and some could never be put back together the same way again. Some days, I'm still a little girl sitting on the floor, looking at this empty box, and crying over all that I had and lost. Other times, I simply bend down, pick up what's remaining and resolve myself to the idea that I'll get around to putting the pieces back together someday. Neither situation is ideal, really.

I'm still sorting through it all. I'm trying to pick up the pieces and, most days, I'm glad my Mom's not here to see the mess. This isn't at all how I imagined it would be. My heart is still broken and I'm incomplete. I'm searching desperately for some beacon of light to warm me, fill in the empty spaces in my heart, and guide me home.